Gravel is Not Conducive for Bike-Riding

When I was about seven, my older sister and I decided to have a friendly bike race down my Mawmaw and Pawpaw's driveway. I'd been riding back and forth for a while, so I accepted the challenge.


We got on our bicycles--one of us was on the coveted red bike that had a speedometer and the other one of us was on the banana-seated bike that was extremely uncomfortable to one's hindquarters--and took off. The driveway is maybe thirty yards, and I knew that a down and back race would not take my breath away, especially since I was in such great shape for a seven year old.

At about the 25-yard mark, my bike tripped on gravel. No, that does not sound like it could make sense, but I remember: I did not swerve; a stick was not in the way; my bike simply tripped over a rock or something and threw me off. I went flying into the air--I'm pretty sure I was winning because my sister saw the whole thing, from behind, of course--and landed on my face. 
My teeth actually broke my fall. Lucky me.


I don't remember getting up; I don't remember the blood; I do remember sitting on the counter in my Mawmaw's kitchen and hearing Kriston apologizing a thousand times although the wreck wasn't even her fault.


Today, pieces of my front four teeth--top two and bottom two--are fake. I don't think I have a whole fake tooth, but all four of them have a bit of falseness to them. 
However, the bike wreck didn't cause all four of them to be fake. I've learned several other lessons in nature besides gravel+bike=wreck. But, those lessons I will share later...when I don't have other assignments due.